Last Gift
by RachelDMoore
Summary: The time has come for the archdemon to be destroyed, and one Warden offers another one last gift.


I went back and fought the archdemon countless times to get a tear-jerker ending. Alas, it was not to be. And after trawling through fandom, I've noticed that there are others who feel the same way. So for all of you disappointed fangirls, I give you the REAL ending to Dragon Age: Origins.

WARNING: Spoilers. And I tried to make it sad and sappy.

Dragon Age: Origins in all of its amazing glory belong to the creative guys (and gals!) at BioWare.

LAST GIFT

"I …I will slay the archdemon. It is my duty, both as a Grey Warden and as a king. I will stop the Blight before it ever really begins. No one could blame for that."

Kallian crouched down next to the wounded Warden. "Alistair, you can't even stand right now. You'd never be able to make it over there. And I won't let you die for no reason."

'Wynne can help me, give me enough strength to …"

The elven rogue placed a finger across his lips, silencing him. 'Wynne is too exhausted, and there are many others who will need her healing powers later tonight. You know arguing with me is futile. Besides, I'm also a Grey Warden. This duty falls to me just as much as it does to you. And I do not have a country to run."

Alistair captured her hand in his, pressing it against his chest. "That's not the only reason. You know how I feel about you. I won't let you die. Not if I can do anything about it."

"Oh, Alistair." She used her free hand to brush a lock of sweat-drenched hair from his eyes. "This has to end now, and this is the only way. You know this. You are the king of Ferelden now. Duncan had faith in you. Eamon still has faith in you. The people will look to you to put the country back together again. Let this --- your life, your future --- be the last gift I give you. Please. Let me go."

"No. I can't. I don't want to have a future without you in it. Don't you see?"

"I _have _to, Alistair. No one else can."

He shook his head. "This is crazy!"

A sad smile crossed Kallian's face. "Sanest thing I've ever done."

With that, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his and what would be their final kiss. She had meant for it to be gentle, but he clutched her to him, holding her tight as though he meant to hold her forever. The kiss grew fierce, as all of the longing, sadness and unfulfilled promises both of them had were conveyed through their lips. When the two finally broke away, both had tears streaming down their cheeks.

"I love you, Alistair," Kallian whispered, touching her forehead to his. "Never forget that. No matter what."

"And I love you," he managed to choke out. "I won't forget you. Ever."

Kallian gave his hand one last squeeze and reluctantly pulled herself out of his grasp. Standing, she turned to face the wounded archdemon. _I guess this is it. _

"Kallian!" Alistair called out, his voice full of desperation. When she turned to face him, he wanted to tell her no, that he wouldn't let her go through with this. Instead, he swallowed the very large lump in his throat and, trying to make his voice sound strong, said "I'll see you again one day. I promise."

She gave him that sad smile one last time. "I'll be waiting for you." Then she turned to their other two companions, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange. "Wynne, take care of him, won't you?"

"Of course," the mage replied. "For as long as I can."

Kallian gave her a nod and turned back to her task at hand. She took a deep breath, steeling her resolve not to look back. If she did… _This is for Ferelden!_

Before she could let her mind dwell on the subject, she began to run.

"Kallian!" she heard Alistair cry out, but she ignored him, focusing only on one thing. As she ran past Riordan's broken and battered body, she snatched up his sword, the same one that had been passed down from Warden to Warden over the centuries. As she approached the archdemon, she raised the blade high above her head, knelt, and pushed forward, slicing the dragon open from its neck to its belly. Acting purely on instinct, she rolled out of the way before the beats could collapse on top of her.

Panting hard, she stood over the creature, feeling its hot blood all over her. _It's not done. Not quite. _

With a loud cry, she plunged the sword into the demon's skull.

Lying a few feet away, Alistair could only watch helplessly as the woman he loved sacrificed herself for him and the kingdom he had become the reluctant ruler of. "Kallian!" he called one last time, wanting his voice to be the last thing she heard. "I love you! Always!"

Then there was a loud _boom, _and the young Warden --- now the last of his order --- felt himself tumbling backwards. He cried out in agony as his mangled leg was smashed against a broken stone. The pain nearly sent him spiraling into unconsciousness, but he fought against it. _I can't black out now. I can't!_

And then, it was over. The shockwave that had resulted from the destruction of the archdemon rolled its way over the edge of Fort Draken, spreading out over Denerim, and peace settled in on the rooftop. Alistair managed to sit up, gritting his teeth against the pain, and looked over to where the beast had met its end.

The dragon's body was already crumbling to ash, the wind quickly carrying it away. And next to it lay a small, motionless figure, looking so much like a child's discarded doll.

The last Grey Warden of Ferelden began to slowly drag his battered body across the rooftop, pushing the pain to the back of his mind as he concentrated only on that figure. _I have to get to Kallian. I have to get her out of here. I ---_

A pair of legs was suddenly in his way, blocking his intended path. Blinking, Alistair followed those legs up, to see that they were attached to a slender figure, currently covered in blood.

"Here," Zevran said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, crouching down and reaching for Alistair's arm. "Let me help you."

Alistair only nodded. He let the elven assassin pull him to his feet, crying out as he tried to put weight on his injured leg. When he was finally upright, Zevran's arm wrapped securely around his waist as he leaned heavily on his companion, he finally spoke, uttering a soft "Thank you."

Zevran gave him a reassuring smile, and they began to move forward.

It was a torturous--- though, thankfully, short---- journey. Every step sent fire shooting through Alistair's body, and every inch gained was another inch ripped into his heart.

When they were a foot or so from where Kallian lay, Zevran stopped and gently placed the Warden on the ground before respectfully stepping back to join Wynne. Alistair crawled the rest of the way to his lover's side.

She looked… peaceful. Almost as though she had just finished a battle and had fallen asleep before washing the blood off. There had been many a morning that Alistair had awoken to find her in a similar position: curled up on her side, hair splayed out around her head, eyes closed in sleep. Alistair had simply watched her most of those mornings, marveling at her beauty, and how he had managed to become so lucky.

Gently, reverently, he reached out to brush that fiery read hair away from her eyes, just as he had done so many times before. As he did, a small flash of green caught his eye. Looking closer, he saw that she had taken the rose he had given her and tucked it behind her gracefully pointed ear. It still looked much the same as it had that day he picked it in Lothering, so many months ago. He could still remember gently tucking it into his cloak, wondering if Kallian would accept it as a gift.

Those thoughts, and the memories that they brought, proved to be too much for him.

Alistair threw himself across her body, clutching her to him much as he had only moments ago, his tears falling in earnest. "Oh, Kallian," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I should have protected you. I should have _saved _you. I love you. Oh, Maker. I'm so sorry."

He wanted to stay on that rooftop, holding her until his grief was spent. But he knew he didn't have that luxury. He was badly injured and exhausted by the battle. He knew that his companions had not fared much better, and would be wanting to see how the rest of the battle had fared. And they had their own grief to contend with. Tonight, when he was alone, he would allow himself to give in fully to his emotions.

"Wynne," he called out, not caring that his voice sounded pathetic.

The mage was at his side almost immediately, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I need your help. Not much. I … I want to be able to carry her out of here. Please."

Wynne nodded as she knelt down next to him, being careful not to disturb Kallian's body. "I'll be happy to. Just hold still and let me see if I can't patch this leg up for you."

She worked quickly, using her lesser magicks so as not to drain herself on his major wounds, including removing the arrow that was still sticking out of his thigh. Then she used bandages to bind everything up. Finished, she sat back on her heels, surveying her work with a satisfied look. "It's not completely healed. You're going to need a lot of rest for that. But you should be able to walk while carrying Kallian's weight without much difficulty."

Alistair nodded. "Thank you, Wynne. So much."

She smiled in return. "It is my pleasure."

The Warden slowly climbed to his feet, testing his leg. Wynne had been right. He was going to have to limp. There was just no way it could bear his full weight plus some. But he could walk. And he could take Kallian home.

Leaning over, he took the body of his lost love into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest. The rose was still tucked behind her ear.

"Come," he said, turning to the others. "Let's go."

* * *

Arl Eamon's Denerim estate had, thankfully, remained mostly intact. Most of the survivors had gathered there, searching for healing or news of loved ones. Shouts echoed throughout the halls, and men and women were running everywhere.

However, there was one small pocket of calm admist all of the chaos. Alistair led his companions through the halls, carrying the body of his head love. Everyone they met fell silent at the sight, and offered bows. Alistair knew they were not bowing to him. Everyone at the battle knew what the Wardens' duty had been. Seeing Kallian, they knew who it was that had saved them and all of Ferelden.

Alistair kept staring strait ahead. He couldn't look at the people as they uttered their condolences. He couldn't stop. He couldn't listen to their words. He had finally managed to gain a small amount of control over his emotions, and he wasn't about to lose it. Not yet. He had one last task to complete.

He found Cyrion, Shianni and Soris in the dinning room, passing out food to the villagers who had gathered there. Alistair didn't say a word as he approached. He simply stood there, clutching Kallian tighter to him.

It took them a moment to realize what had happened. Then Shianni was the first one to react, bursting into sobs as she turned to Soris, who quickly wrapped his arms around his distraught cousin. Cyrion simply nodded.

"I had a feeling it would end like this," he said sadly, reaching up to touch the tattoo that framed his daughter's face. "After the way she spoke to me this morning… I am glad I was able to say my goodbyes."

Alistair could feel his resolve begin to crumble. "I'm… so sorry. I tried to stop her, tried to let me take her place."

Much to his surprise, the elf chuckled. "Ah. I'm sure Kallian did not take that so well. Once she gets an idea in her head, there's nothing for it. I wouldn't be surprised if she bullied you, or even knocked you out so you wouldn't get in her way. She was always stubborn. Just like her mother."

The human offered his own sad smile. "I know. But I was hoping I could… out-bully her, I suppose. I'm just sorry I broke my promise to you. I wasn't able to keep her safe."

"There is no need to apologize, young man. None of us hold any ill will towards you. We all knew Kallian --- and her tendencies --- well. Besides, we have much to be thanking you for."

Alistair blinked down at the elven man. "_Thanking _me? Why in the Maker's name are you _thanking _me? Your daughter is _dead _because of me. Kallian died because _I _couldn't protect her." His voice continued to rise so that he was nearly shouting.

Much to his surprise, it was Shianni who answered him. "We thank you because you loved her," she said, turning from Soris as she wiped her eyes. "Kallian was never happy with the life the Ailenage offered her. She used to talk of leaving, of finding true love with a handsome prince." A small smile flittered across her lips. "You gave her the life she had always dreamed of."

The Warden looked down at the still figure in his arms. Thinking on Shianni's words, his mind went back to words Kallian had spoken one night as they lay together in his tent. "_You saved me, Alistair. More so than Duncan. I only wish that I could repay you for giving me the life I'd always hoped for."_

He had laughed, blushing, before telling her, in his usually manner, that he was sorry their home was a tent, but at least they didn't have termites. Later, he had told her that her love was all that he would ever need.

"You loved her." Cyrion's soft voice brought Alistair back to the present. "That in itself is enough to make my father's heart glad. But you also brought her back to us, so that we can say our proper goodbyes. That's more than we had hoped for." He paused for a moment, then held out his arms. "We want to hold a funeral for her. Tomorrow morning. I know that there are many who perished this day, but surely we can hold a proper funeral for the hero of Ferelden."

"Of course." Alistair looked at Cyrion's outstretched arms, feeling a knot of panic began to grow in his chest. He knew what the elf wanted, and knew he should do it. After all, Kallian was his daughter. But… _I can't let her go. If I do, I won't be able to hold back anymore."_

Wynne placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's time to let her go, Alistair. They're going to need to prepare her body. You'll be able to say your final goodbyes tomorrow."

Alistair felt his panic grown, and he could feel his body curve in, protecting Kallian. _No! I can't!_

Wynne squeezed his shoulder. "It's all right, son. Let Cyrion take her. Let her go."

Alistair closed his eyes and fought down his panic before it could grow any larger. "Here," he said, gingerly placing Kallian in her father's waiting arms. "May I … ask one last favor of you?"

"Of course." Cyrion cradled Kallian's body just as closely as Alistair had. "What can we do for you?"

It took him a moment to answer. Now that he no longer had Kallian, he could feel himself beginning to crumble. He needed to get somewhere alone. His room, perhaps. And it needed to be soon, before he came apart at the seams.

"Do you see this rose she has?" Alistair tenderly brushed her hair away from her face to that Cyrion could see the flower tucked behind her ear. "Will you make sure she has that with her? It was… a special gift. Please?"

"On my honor. But you must do something in return."

"Anything."

"Will you speak tomorrow? At her funeral? You loved her, and gave her the happiest moments of her life. You would be the best suited to honor her memory."

"Me?" Alistair blurted. "Why would you ---"

Then he thought over what Cyrion had just said. _You gave her the happiest moments of her life._ And he knew, without a doubt, Kallian would never forgive him if he didn't perform this last act as her lover.

He stroked her cheek one last time, speaking his answer in words almost too soft to hear. "I would be honored to."

Cyrion smiled. "Maker bless you, Alistair. I will never be able to repay you for all the happiness you brought to my daughter. We look forward to you honoring us at her funeral tomorrow."

The young human took a step back, placed his crossed fists over his chests reverently, and bowed. Then he turned and walked away without saying another word.

* * *

Wynne was exhausted . After returning Kallian's body to her father, the mage had gone to Arl Eamon to report what had transpired during the battle with the archdemon. He had thanked her, and encouraged her to take her rest. Tomorrow morning would be the time of mourning, set aside of Kallian's funeral. Then the night would be a celebration of their victory over the darkspawn. For now, what they all needed was sleep.

Which is exactly what Wynne wanted. But not just yet. There was something she needed to do first, else she would never be able to find sleep.

After promising Cyrion that he would speak at Kallian's funeral, Alistair had simply disappeared. Arl Eamon had not heard from him, though he was desperately worried about the boy, especially after hearing of Kallian's sacrifice. Wynne had next checked the infirmary, thinking that the Warden would have gone there for healing. She found both Zevran and Leliana there, but no signs of Alistair. So now she was headed to the only other place she knew to look.

The room that Alistair had been assigned the night before was only two doors down from Wynne's, but she didn't even bother to check it. She knew for a fact that he had not spent the night there, not after Riordan had revealed why it had to be a Grey Warden that struck the killing blow on an archdemon. Instead, she focused on the room across the hall. Kallian's room.

Standing just outside the door, she could hear a strange noise coming from inside. Frowning, she pushed the door open just enough for her to peek in.

The room was completely dark, except for the moonlight filtering in through the window. In that dim light, Wynne could just make out Alistair. He was lying on the bed, curled up in a tiny ball. The pack that Kallian had carried with her lay open on the floor, its contents piled in a heap. The blue cloak that Wynne had seen her wear on so many occasions was being hugged tight to Alistair's chest, his face buried in it. The sound that Wynne had heard was the young man's howling sobs, muffled by the cloak. His body was trembling all over from the force of his grief.

Wynne had seen many things over the course of her long years. She'd had her only child literally ripped from her arms almost before it could draw its first breath. She had driven away her first apprentice by being a harsh taskmistress. She herself was supposed to be dead, kept alive only at the whim of a guardian spirit. Yet never before and she witnessed anything as heartbreaking as the scene before her now.

The mage bowed her head and closed her eyes, feeling a single tear trickle down her cheek. _Maker watch over you, Alistair,_ she thought. Reaching down into the last of her reserved strength, she held out a hand and let a trickle of magick flow into the room. _Sleep. And let your dreams take you to the Fade, where you may find your Kallian._

Suddenly feeling very tired and very old, Wynne carefully shut the door before stumbling off to her own room, leaving the last Grey Warden of Ferelden to his grief.

------------

The sun rose clear the next morning, though it had difficulty burning through the thick layer of smoke that hung over Denerim. Many of the fires that had ravaged the city had burned out overnight, leaving nothing but charred remains in their wake.

Alistair felt much like the town looked: empty and damaged beyond repair. Last night had been… To say it had been the worse night of his life was a vast understatement. His sobbing had gone on for hours, as he had felt as though both his heart and his soul had been ripped from his chest. It had taken even longer for his body to cease its violent trembling. Every time he had opened his eyes and seen the empty side of the bed where Kallian had lain just the night before, a new tremor of pain rolled through him.

Finally, his body had just… shut down. It wasn't sleep, not really. Every time he heard a noise, he would start up, heart pounding, hoping desperately that everything had just been a dream, and Kallian would be coming to bed. Then he would remember that his lover would never be returning, and his tears would start again.

It was nearing dawn when he finally fell into a true sleep, wrapped up in Kallian's cloak. This time, he dreamed.

In his dream, he and Kallian were together. But things were… different. There was no Blight, no archdemon. They weren't even Grey Wardens, the absence of the taint within him leaving Alistair feeling a bit off balance. They were in a forest somewhere, resting on the ground, Alistair's back against a tree. His arms were wrapped around Kallian, who lay curled up on his chest, asleep. No words were spoken, but none were needed. When Wynne woke him a few hours later, he felt… better. The gaping hole in his chest was still there, and he doubted it would ever completely heal. But there was another sense hidden deep in the grief: a tiny spark of peace.

It was to that spark that Alistair now clung to as he stood before a funeral pyre, four or five feet high. On top of that pyre lay the body of Kallian, the hero of Ferelden, the woman he loved.

Alistair had never seen her look so beautiful as she did in that moment. Shianni had carefully washed all of the blood from her cousin's body, leaving her skin that pale color that Alistair had found so appealing. She had even styled Kallian's hair into an elaborate braid. Cyrion had found an elegant gown to clad her in, dark purple to set off the color of her hair and her skin. Her hands were folded delicately across her chest. And, just as Cyrion had promised, her fingers were curled around Alistair's rose.

In front of him stood a large throng of people, nearly every villager and solider who had survived yesterday's battle. All of them had turned out to pay their respects to the woman who had saved all of their lives. And they were all waiting for him to speak.

Alistair cleared his throat and prayed to the Maker to give him the strength to make it through his speech without breaking down in front of all of these people. _His _people.

"Today we gather here to honor Kallian Tabris, the woman who made it possible for all of us to be standing here now. Many of us had the grace to know here. Some us had the privilege of calling her friend. And a few of us…" He paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "A few of us were lucky enough to love her.

"When I first met Kallian, she had been recruited from the Ailenage here in Denerim to join the Grey Wardens. She had only officially been a member of our order for a day before she and I fought in the Battle of Ostegar, and you all know the outcome of that sad day. She could have chosen to run away. She could have chosen to follow me, or wait for more Grey Wardens to arrive. But she didn't. Instead, she took to her duty almost immediately. She led me and a small band of companions --- also heroes in their own right --- across Ferelden to gather armies to fight against the Blight. She convinced the Circle of Magi to leave their tower, the Dalish elves to leave their forests, and the Dwarves to leave their tunnels. All across the land, many began to hear tales of this mighty Grey Warden who had accomplished so much.

"When the call came, you all answered without hesitation, showing the respect that each of you held for her. And I can tell you that she was thankful for each and every one of you who came to aide her in the fight to save our homes from the darkspawn."

He paused for a moment. "Kallian was the most selfless person I have ever met. She was always willing to help out anyone she met, never once asking for anything in return. Many of you who stand before me were on the receiving end of that kindness. This was the way she lived, and the way she died. As we stood together before the archdemon on top of Fort Draken, she refused to let me be the one to strike the killing blow, even though she knew that she would not survive. She wanted me to live, wanted _all _of us to love. And she was proud to be the one who would give us this chance.

"Kallian may be gone, but she will never be forgotten. Every morning that we awake without fear, we will remember her. Every day we walk through our villages and towns in peace, we will remember her. Every night we tuck our children into bed and tell them there is nothing to fear from the darkness, we will remember her. For years, our bards will sing songs that tell the deeds of Kallian. The deeds of the hero of Ferelden!"

A loud roar rose from the crowd at this proclamation, cheering and chants of "To Kallian!" filling the air. This made the new king smile with pride. _I wish you could see this…_

He took a respectful step back and nodded to Cyrion, his cue to move forward to say his final goodbyes. The elf took his daughter's hand in his, kissed it, then gently placed it back onto her chest. He spoke a few words, too low for anyone to hear, before stepping back. Shianni threw herself across her cousin's body, sobbing. This went on for a few moments before she stood up, wiped her eyes, and went to join her uncle. Soris simply touched her face and mumbled something before rejoining the other two.

Then it was Alistair's turn. He stepped back up to the pyre, knowing that this would be the last time he saw her. In this world, anyways.

One hand went to hers, folded around his rose. On one finger was the wedding band that she had taken from the body of her betrothed on what was to have been her wedding day. Though she had never wanted to be wed to a man she did not love, she had explained to Alistair that she had worn the band to remind her of where she came from, of who she was fighting for. He carefully slid the ring from her finger and clutched it to his chest. He had approached Cyrion earlier that morning, asking for permission to take the ring as a final token. The elf had readily agreed.

His free hand reached up to stroke her cheek. _She looks as though she is only sleeping… _"Goodbye, my love," he murmured softly. "Thirty years is not so long a time to wait. I will think only of you when I march to the Deep Roads. Then we will be reunited. This I swear."

He leaned down to place one last kiss upon her lips. _Kallian… _

He was aware of the sound of sobbing all around him, and couldn't be too sure that his own weren't amongst them. He didn't care. Before being a Warden, before being a king, he was a man. And, right now, he was a man who was saying his last goodbye to his lover.

He finally pulled away, touching her face one last time. Then he reached for the torch.

"May the Maker welcome you into his arms, Kallian Tabris," he intoned. "And may we all, one day, be reunited in his embrace."

With that, he touched torch to wood, setting the pyre on fire.

A scream sounded from somewhere. He thought that it might have been Shianni, but it could have been his own. What he _did _know is that his legs could no longer support him and he fell to his knees. A hand was placed on his back, but he didn't bother to turn and see who it was offering that silent support. His eyes were glued to the burning pyre, tears streaming down his face.

Alistair had no idea how long he stayed that way, kneeling in the cold mud, watching as the ashes of the woman he loved were carried away by the wind. When he did become aware of time again, the sun was much higher in the sky, and most of the pyre --- and Kallian's body --- were gone. The smell of charred flesh hung heavy in the air.

Cyrion was kneeling on the ground next to him, one arm placed across the distraught human's shoulders. Kallian's father seemed to have aged hundreds of years in the scant week since Alistair had first met him.

"She's gone now, son." Cyrion's voice was soft, heavy with grief. "She's in a better place now, and we both know she'd give us a horrible tongue lashing for sitting here crying when there are things that need to be done."

Alistair tried to smile. "I know. But I…"

"It's going to be hard. I won't lie to you. And you'll never get over it, no matter how much time passes." He paused. "We were going to gather her ashes, put them in an urn. I did the same when her other died, and I think they would be happy to be beside each other again. But you are more than welcome to take some as well."

Alistair opened his clenched fist, saw the small golden band that lay on his palm, and shook his head. "No, Cyrion. I've had your daughter for the past few months. I've got all I need to remember her by. She needs to go home, to be with her family."

The elf nodded. "Thank you, Alistair. Now, on your feet. Dry your eyes. We have to move on now. We both know this is what Kallian would have wanted."

Slowly, Alistair climbed to his feet, feeling as though he too had aged rapidly in the last day. He looked at the pyre, now almost complete ash. _She's really gone… _

"I just want to thank you again," Cyrion said, still standing by her side. "For everything. Your speech today was beautiful. Kallian would have been proud."

Not caring if anyone saw him, Alistair pulled the old elf into a tight hug. "I will never be able to repay you for all of the kindness you have shown me. I think the Maker every day that I was given the chance to love Kallian. I don't know what I would have done had she not been there to me through all of this."

Cyrion returned the hug."Seeing her face when you were with her in the , knowing how happy you made her… There is nothing else I could ask for."

Then the two men stepped away from each other, Cyrion with a smile on his face. "Know that you will always have a place within the Ailenage. If you'd ever like to visit her, or just miss her and want to talk, my door will always be open."

A smile finally managed to find its way onto Alistair's face. "Thank you. I would like that." He paused. "Goodbye, Cyrion."

The elf offered him a bow. "Until we meet again." Then he turned to the now-smoldering pyre, and the task of collecting his daughter's ashes.

Alistair turned his back on them and began the trek back to Eamon's estate, wiping the tears from his eyes. Kallian was gone. Though his chest still felt as if it had been ripped open, he had said his goodbyes. Now it was time to get to work.

This had been her last gift to him. He was going to treasure it, and use it in a way that would make her proud.


End file.
